Depth of Pigmented Feathers
by Feather Painter
Summary: Another OC-Self-Insert story? Not really. Afflicted with heavy mental strains, Catherine escapes into the body of an English girl and finds herself in 1886. When her enigmatic, amber-eyed adoptive brother later appears and evidence shows she is actually in the Kuroshitsuji world, events force her to acquaint herself with the Evil Noble and the truth of why she's there. Eventual AU
1. Amber Shining In the Midst of Shadows

**Author's Note: **Since I'm not fond of AN's in stories, this will be the only one in the entire story. Because of this, I want to thank all reviewers and favs in advance. Honestly, reviews are the fuel that keeps me going! Anyways…

Oh no! Not another OC-Self-Insert-Mary-Sue story! Right? Wrong. This will be a long and detailed story even though my writing ability isn't as up to par yet as I would like it have been. After reading so many Kuroshitsuji stories that had female main characters somehow being transported to the Black Butler world, I kind of grew tired of the general plot idea, and thus D.P.F. was born. "But Fepa, D.P.F. _IS_ another OC Self-Insert story!" Is what you're probably thinking. BUT! Is it? Throughout the entire story it certainly will seem so. Only the first and final chapters will give out the truth of the situation however. This is my attempt at presenting realism to the Kuroshitsuji fandom, which means I won't be including any dimension traveling and will be making the characters much more realistic than they are portrayed in the anime and manga. So how does Catherine arrive in the Kuroshitsuji world then if the story is supposed to be realistic? Well, I'll leave that question for you to answer or leave unanswered until the end of the story.

Unless of course, you are somehow able to figure out what's happening to her in the prologue. It seems like I've taken a supernatural view on what's happening, but I really haven't. I know it probably doesn't make sense, but it will once you realize the situation. To Catherine it might seem like her 'soul' is the one seeing everything (which is why she thinks everyone seems to be unable to see her), but I ask that you please always question if what is happening in her point of view is actually what is going on (at least until she 'reaches' the Kuroshitsuji world). Also, poems in italics are not written by me. They are free to use poems I took from a google search. If the writer of a poem doesn't want it to be here, then please PM me and I'll have it removed. Poems will be used only in the prologue for the most part. Otherwise they will rarely show up in other chapters.

If you comment, I would very much appreciate it if you gave input and let me know if you want something to be changed. If the pace is too fast or too slow, let me know! If there are way too many details, let me know! I won't be able to tell unless someone brings it to my attention, unfortunately.

Anyways, sorry for this long note! It will be the last however, unless something comes up and I have to include another one in some other chapter.

Also, one last note! Please listen to Eric Bachmann's _The Mysterious Death of Robert Tower_, _Jimmy the Enforcer, _and _Reach Out and Touch Someone_ while reading! These are the songs the story was written to and I feel that they relate almost perfectly to what is going on. If you can't find them on Google (I had quite a hard time finding them), they are available on MOG. This is just a recommendation though; you don't have to listen to them if you don't want to

So without further ado, I present to you the unfortunate escapism of Catherine Demarlei.

* * *

Amber Shining In the Midst of Shadows

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_Given angel's wings, where might you fly?  
In what sweet heaven might you find your love?  
Unwilling to be bound, where might you move,  
Lost between the wonder and the why?  
If you were but a flame of pure desire,  
A light so lovely you could not be seen,  
Near mad with yearning, yet somehow serene,  
And that were all, what more might you require?_

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The sheer depth of my mind's crevasses plunged me into a continuous and nauseous sense of vertigo, and trying as I could to attract some form of attention, my panicked state continued to go unnoticed; my cries fell upon deaf ears. Steadily, quickly, the fear turned into a small and angry flame borne out of desperation. Could no one help me? Surely a loved one would have noticed my prolonged absence and sought to help me by now?! I needed someone to pull me out of this… floating, this surreal darkness! It was terrifying, suffocating, and my panic was slowly rising as time passed by. Movement was not possible, light was not present. It was as if this mental sepulcher was a lucid dream joined with sleep paralysis, a type which would not permit me to awaken, open my eyes, or elicit the slightest of movement.

Somehow I knew, the fact was there, it was the same as how you know where your arms or feet are exactly positioned even though you cannot see them. I knew that below me lay hundreds of deep canyons and fissures, abysses that reside within everyone's mind and are fashioned by their subconsciousness and memories; and were it not for my current state, I would have found myself submerged in a fit of hyperventilation and wild thrashing at the sheer _vastness_ of it.

I remained suspended, yet how was I to be sure how long it would last before my mind's constructed force decided to remove my suspended self from the air and plunge me into the abyss? The freezing wisps of thick tension slowly crept upon me; I knew I could not take much more of this before I was fully willing to discard my sanity. I was sure of this, and yet all my senses stubbornly remained absent. If there was something to be physically felt, I knew not. If there was any light, any color, any life, I could see not. If there was someone speaking, I could hear not.

At first it went unnoticed, but ever so slowly I began to grow… dimmer? Oh how relieved I was when I grew aware of this slow fade, as one would feel when going to sleep or when a flame on a match was very near its end. Finally I would escape this prison, even if it meant sacrificing myself! If I smiled, if tears ran down my face, if I sighed, if I laughed, I knew not.

If I was still a part of this world, I knew not.

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_Souls do not disintegrate and die:  
Years pass and yet they do not fade away.  
Memories are like a distant star  
Pouring forth its light across the void.  
All our tears and laughter do not lie:  
Though we pass like dreams, our spirits stay,  
Held fast by love, which is just what we are,  
Yet in a form that cannot be destroyed._

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Michelle's shaking hands remained on her lap and her reddened, tear-stained face would not leave the body on the bed. It had only been a few days, but to her the time no longer passed; it had completely stilled. She ate only when her husband brought her something, slept only when her eyes refused to remain open any longer, and did not leave her daughter's side ever since she had entered the hospital two days ago.

She clasped the girl's limp hand and did not let go. Her prayers continued, her presence and support remained by her daughter's side without fail, and she absolutely refused to allow any stray thoughts to wander into the territory of doubts and what-ifs.

With a container of homemade food in hand, Peter silently entered the room and took a seat next to Michelle, extending the container towards his wife. Only when her eyes fell upon the food did she realize how hungry she had gotten and how long it had been since her last meal. Before she could open the lid however, a stressed man in a white coat and clipboard entered the room, nodding towards the two parents who promptly stood up and tensed, their eyes brimming with hope, fear, and everything in between.

"We've analyzed the x-rays and extent of injury…" the doctor sighed, weariness that his profession brought clinging to him like a second skin, before continuing. "Due to the shock her brain received and the location of the injury in her cerebral cortex, she will remain in a coma for an indefinite amount of time. The surgery was a success, but for now all we can do is wait and leave it in Catherine's hands. I looked through her psychiatrist's diagnosis and… it's likely the injury might have made her condition worse. Medication will be given through her IV therapy, of course. I'll send you the documents and details later today after they get processed."

"Thank you, Doctor," Peter nodded while putting a hand on his wife's shoulder, maybe to reassure her, maybe to remind her that he was still there even though everything seemed so bleak without their only child. Michelle simply nodded her acknowledgement to the Doctor's words before he checked the machines she was hooked up to, making a few marks on his clipboard, and inserting a syringe into the small capsule hooked up to the IV bag.

"The medicine will help stabilize her condition and act as a pain reliever, assuming she is able to feel pain. The brain scans show that her mind is constantly moving from deep unconsciousness to a state in which she is able to reach her subconsciousness. It's nothing quite like I've ever encountered before, so I'll prescribe the pain relievers just in case." He didn't add that the coma patients who presented these symptoms took the longest to wake up. Just seeing the two worried and sleep-deprived adults was enough to make him want to run home and keep his own wife and child close by him!

"Alright, thank you," Michelle replied as the doctor nodded and walked out of the room, his sharp footsteps on the cold tile floor reverberating throughout the hallway.

The two parents turned back to Catherine and Michelle softly squeezed her hand, hoping that she could somehow feel her support, all while being completely oblivious to the girl's mental screams and cries for help—for someone to wake her up.

* * *

_Seventh Day of Comatose State_

* * *

"Hello dear, I brought you a surprise!" Michelle smiled at her daughter and took a seat in the chair next to her. She long ago expelled any doubts that her daughter could not hear her. If any voice could reach a child, it would certainly be that of a caring mother. The blonde rummaged in her purse for a moment before taking out a worn, leather-bound journal and pen. "I figured you'd need something familiar by you," _'something to give you incentive to hurry and wake up and stop making me worry and not leave us likethis_-' "So I brought you that story you refused to finish because you never wrote down its title and forgot it," she laughed softly and continued, "Remember that argument we had? I never thought you had such a set of lungs on you. You know, I still say you should continue writing! Forgetting the title is no reason to lose motivation! Here, I'll leave the journal right here on the stand near your head for you."

With a content sigh, Michelle got up and kissed her daughter's forehead and left with an "I'll be back again tonight with your father when he gets out of work." Yet again, she still had remained blissfully ignorant of Catherine's whimpers, cries, and weak repeating of 'Don't leave me! Come _back_, Mom...' . Everything remained normal for Michelle and Peter, HAD to stay normal for them. That was how it was and how it would be.

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When you open your eyes for the first time, there isn't any sense of enlightenment or sudden understanding of the meaning of life. Nor can you suddenly walk through walls and travel unknown distances in the blink of an eye just because you _thought _of your destination. Neither are there celestial or demonic entities waiting to see who you deserved to go with in your final judgment. At least, none that I could see at the moment.

Maybe it was like that for everyone else, but I would never know because it certainly was not like that for me.

I was sleeping, I knew I was sleeping. Yet I found myself in some state between lucidity and death when I awoke in a hospital bed. I sat up, my mind not yet fully awake or able to carry out coherent thought processes, and by some instinct deemed it necessary to look down at my body.

I screamed.

I yelled for help.

Even though I knew, _I knew,_ no doctors or regular people would ever be able to hear me, maybe ever again…

Because I was looking down at my sleeping form with a dream-like clarity. I was filled with horror as my eyes swept over my physical face, pallid skin, and bandages over my head before I automatically and instinctively curled into myself and expelled all thoughts from my mind. I felt it, I could feel my hands on my head as I tried to hide from reality, but I _couldn't see them._ I couldn't feel the tears of frustration I KNEW should have been present. I was in the bed, on the bed, but I wasn't lying down like my body was. However, nothing hit me harder than the fact that _I was finally awake._

The EKG monitor did not stop its patterned beeping.

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Every time Mom and Dad came to visit, the tears wouldn't stop. I was filled with loathing. I went over the events of my life plenty of times and couldn't find any horrible crime I had committed to end up like this! On the ninth day of the coma, I concluded that something must have become unbalanced in my mind, resulting in the expulsion of my… soul, or consciousness, from my body. How that was able to happen I didn't know, but at least I had an explanation, something to go by to prevent me from falling into yet another panic attack. I wasn't even a believer that souls existed until this happened.

* * *

_Twelfth Day of Comatose State_

* * *

It was when the heart monitor's beeps took on a slower pattern of beeping that the nightmares started. I tried to yell at the doctors, the nurses, my parents, visiting family members, anyone and everyone that stepped foot inside my room—believe me I tried and tried and my voice never became hoarse or sore—yet no one ever heard me.

Although, the heart monitor… had the pattern of its beeping slowed down again just... now?

Seemingly at random, something happened to my mind the moment I thought about the heart monitor because suddenly everything wasn't so blurry and carrying a dream-like quality.

I clutched my hands tightly together and squeezed my eyes closed as the sensation swept through me like icy cold water. It felt like I was swimming to the surface of a very deep and heavy lake—the light at the end of the very long tunnel, if you will—but had not yet reached it. I was sure I absolutely didn't want to.

When I opened my eyes I knew I was a step closer to death than I had been, before I noticed my pulse slowing down. They were just walking to and fro through the walls of the room, ignoring me. Cloaked beings, most of which drew such innate fear from me that I found myself wishing for insanity to come quicker and stop taking its damn time. I remained frozen on the bed, half of me in my body and my upper half upright for what I was sure must have been an hour. At one point, a tall figure bearing the most tattered and darkest of cloaks with the mask of a skull came through the wall facing me, and with horror I thought that it might be the grim reaper himself. But no, it glided right by my bed and through the adjacent wall as if it hadn't even seen me. At least, I thought it hadn't.

Imagine my terror when the face turned ever so slightly towards me before disappearing through the wall. Not towards my body, but towards _me_.

That was it. I shuddered and bore through the ghostly chill that wracked my being. At that moment—I don't know how I was able to do it—I decided to promptly force everything down into myself so I could just _stop._ Stop feeling the all-encompassing fear, all-consuming terror, the constant negativity. I just _pushed_ and forced myself to stop caring. I was tired of everything! The night would end soon enough and then my parents would come and visit in the morning again. Everything would be alright, even if they couldn't see me. I could see them; it had to be enough for now.

With this in mind, I lied down and continued to stare at the ceiling, left my mind carefully blank, waited for the morning to come, and ignored the inhabitants of this bizarre and distorted new world I was waking up to.

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"Good morning sweetie," Peter smiled at Catherine as he and his wife entered the room and sat down in their usual seats. "You're going to have someone special visiting tomorrow. Danny's coming to visit from his college in Spain. He left as soon as he heard you were in the hospital, but his flight got detoured and so it took him longer than planned to get here," Michelle explained while softly stroking Catherine's light-brown hair. "It's been a long time since you last saw your brother, hasn't it? Well, in the future, you're going to have to do what he's doing, you know."

Peter smiled. "Yeah, it's right back to the books after you wake up and recover." He chuckled at the thought that Catherine was mentally groaning at his words, but then is mouth fell into a grim line, his eyes sorrowful. Honestly, as a paramedic himself, he knew that in Catherine's state, she wouldn't be able to hear anything. At this point he was doing it all for his wife who he was growing more and more worried for.

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As I stared up at the ceiling, I was relieved. Somehow, in some way, I had finally found peace when I was successfully able to stop caring. A part of me knew this coping mechanism would backfire greatly on my mental health later on, but for now this depression was welcomed. Sure, I was glad that my brother was coming to visit, but apart from a faint contentment, I couldn't feel anything else except for an occasional bout of deep sorrow—a definite sign of depression. Or would it count as a spiritual illness in this case?

Now that my mind had become much clearer and I was able to accept my unchangeable circumstances a bit more, the questions festering at the back of my mind started to surface. If I was outside of my body, why wasn't it dying? Where was the light to guide me to wherever the afterlife is? Did this often happen to coma patients—or anyone for that matter? I was afraid to leave contact with my body or even the bed—who knew what would happen? But what I was frightened about most of all was how accepting and open-minded I was being about all of this. Maybe because I wasn't limited to the limits and confinements of a physical brain and emotions? I don't care though; I immediately decided I hated this.

I brought my knees up to my chest and hugged them, trying to deal with the overwhelming loneliness that was steadily growing as time passed. I wanted my family to visit, but at the same time I knew it would plunge me deeper into solitude— And I didn't know how to deal with that. I sighed, continuing to wait for time to pass and ignoring the ever-present figures traveling to and fro as if the walls were of no concern to them.

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My gaze followed the people as they entered the hospital room, all looking somber and awkward yet trying to hide it. Why even try? It wasn't like my body could see them. I listened and absorbed every word my parents and brother spoke, every smile was memorized, and every affectionate gaze towards my body was deeply appreciated. I sat upright on the bed, gazing at them with wonder and trying to put myself in their shoes. I wanted to go back to school, go shopping with my mom, hang out with Danny, help him find out who his real parents are (he was adopted into the family, but that didn't ever stop me from treating him as a real brother), listen to music, and _live_ like they were. I was jealous, so jealous, and I felt _ashamed_ because of it.

"—But it's not as difficult as I thought. If you study for the exams, the stress isn't as unbearable," Daniel made small-talk with our parents, trying his best to get them to open up. They had bags under their eyes and were skinnier; it was unsettling him a great deal. It had definitely devastated him when he first laid eyes upon the unconscious form of his sister, but he knew that she would eventually wake up and recover. It didn't matter if it would take years; she _would_ wake up. But it seemed that they didn't share the same optimism he had… a pity, really.

"I see. Well it's good that you found a successful way to cope with the stress. It's a good motivator you know."

"That's definitely true. I wouldn't have been able to become a paramedic if it wasn't for the stress pushing me to do well in medical school."

"…I hate this."

"Oh that's right. I have a meeting with Sarah in a bit, is it alright if you and Danny stay with Cathy after I'm gone?"

"Not a problem dear, I'll see you when we get home."

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"I know you guys can't hear me, but I think... hate you."

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"Hey dad, can you run to the vending machine really quick? Here's two dollars. Any snack will do. I would do it but I want to spend as much time as I can with Cathy since I've been gone for so long."

"I understand. I'm also going to use the restroom. I'll be back in a bit."

I watched my dad's retreating form with a bored expression before turning back to Daniel. I still had my knees over my chest—I couldn't see them, but the fact that I could constantly feel in what position my body was in was proof enough for me—as I turned to gaze at Daniel. I gazed and gazed, not saying a word.

"Well you've certainly gotten yourself in a pickle."

_What?_ I'm pretty sure I could feel an inquisitive eyebrow rise at his rather blunt remark.

"I mean, with the coma and all."

"Well no duh, I think this would count as more of a pumpkin rather than a pickle. A pickle is too small for this," I mused aloud, knowing that he wouldn't be able to hear me but ignoring that fact. Might as well pretend to live if I couldn't actually do it. Maybe I wished he _could _hear me.

Daniel sighed, leaning his elbows against his knees and running his hands over his shaggy brown hair, his bright amber eyes gazing toward the floor. And then, he just HAD to go and say it. "I believe you'll wake up, Catherine; Even if it doesn't seem like it... you'll get better. Trust me. In the future, things will go back to how they were."

I don't know why, I really don't, but that must have been the straw that broke the camel's back. The small flame of anger I thought had been put out by depression suddenly flared into a furious inferno, and I shot out of bed, slamming my fists against the edge of the bed—even though they passed right through it—and vocalized my pent-up frustration and loneliness into one scream.

"Really? REALLY? IF YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED, I'M FUCKING DEAD. I'M TIRED, I'M SCARED, AND I just want to stop being alone like this!" I couldn't help but burst into tears. I couldn't even see my hands, for goodness' sakes! Sure it felt good to get it all out, but it still wouldn't solve anything! I wasn't even sure how I was still able to properly function in this situation in the first place!

.

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"But the heart monitor is still going. It hasn't stopped."

"…What?"

"The heart monitor hasn't stopped. So you're not dead yet, Cathy."

I stared at Daniel as his eyes slowly met mine. We made eye contact.

_We made eye contact_.

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As my mind slowly became aware, I found myself unable to recoil from the familiar weightlessness and manner in which my mindscape held me suspended above countless fissures and abysses. The complete lack of any sights, smells, noises, tastes, or touch led me to believe that I had finally found my eternal rest in a perfect vacuum. And for that, I was grateful for. I was content. I smiled. If this is where circumstances led me, then I was assured it must have been my time to pass. I accepted this fact with solemnity. I regretted no longer being able to take part in the joys of life, but glad that I would no longer have to deal with illnesses and burdens of the world.

And yet in the same time, I was feeling the complete opposite of these things. I was in agony and desperately didn't want to die. There were so many things I had yet to accomplish in life, and I couldn't leave my family and friends heartbroken by my death. I didn't even want to think about death.

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After an unknown amount of time passed, and although my surroundings seemed to go on without end, I slowly started feeling a growing and strange sense of confinement—as if I were inside of something? With the sharp increase of this sensation, a sudden bout of panic seized me and I tried to scream, to move, to get out. I was _suffocating_!

I was trapped—unable to move—claustrophobic— IWANTED TO RUN AWAYcan'tbreatheOUT_OUT_**OUT**—

Stillness.

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_**ESCAPE**_.

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_I made myself up. New family. New History._

_I don't know why._

_It wasn't that I didn't like myself._

_Maybe I found the fictional me more interesting._

_It was something that just happened, _

_Like an accident you see unfolding, _

_Happening to you in slow motion_

_But seeming to happen to somebody else._

_And now that it's over_

_And I'm living in the wreckage,_

_I think: This isn't me!_

_But of course it is._


	2. Amnesia

**I** gasped awake in a burst of panic, as if I had awakened from a terrible nightmare, and quickly absorbed my surroundings. Although the sudden presence of daylight burned my eyes and sent a shooting pain to my head, I couldn't help but ignore all sensations once I had become aware of what lay around me. I was grimacing when I slowly lifted up my hand to my hair, which was waist-length… much different from my original shoulder-length hair. Upon contact, I slowly drew my gaze downwards towards my body and splayed my arms outwards. I did my best to internalize the welling despair as much as I could, but it quickly amassed into wretched terror and fear. The sheer confusion of everything was so painful, that I couldn't even move.

My hair was different? And my hands were also! These were definitely not my arms, this was most definitely not my body, nor was this _anywhere_ familiar!

By taking one look around the ornate mansion I was now in, I slowly came upon the conclusion that I was having a very lucid hallucination... because people just do NOT suddenly find themselves in complete costume in a foreign mansion-like place wearing a wig that wouldn't come off no matter how hard you pulled at it…

It just wasn't possible.

I don't care if I instinctively brought my arms up to my head in an attempt to shield myself from this strange hallucination. THIS JUST DOES NOT HAPPEN TO PEOPLE.

"Oh my god…" I breathed, too afraid to make the slightest movement from my crumpled position on the floor, before I turned and gazed up at the wide and tall stairs covered by an expensive-looking rug. The railings were of some golden metal, and everything looked so… it was as if I had stepped into the Victorian Era. While still trying to gulp in deep breaths and desperately slow down my heart rate, I stood up as slowly as I could and continued to stare around me, transfixed at what had become of my sanity. There were paintings of strangers on the walls, fancy furniture, and an intricate front door which helped me realize I was in the main living room and first floor of the mansion, right at the foot of the right set of wide stairs that led to the second story and connected with the left set of stairs at the top.

"…Oh… my god..."

Try as I might, my mind was unable to process much of anything. It was as if time had completely grinded to a halt. I knew this was a definite sign of shock, but wasn't surprised in the least given the circumstances. The assurance that this was all just a temporary hallucination washed me in a wave of relief, and I slumped my shoulders, collapsing to the ground and letting the tears run freely.

What was happening to me? Was I kidnapped? I dug rapidly through my mind in search of the answers and came out more frightened than before. There was a blank in my memories. It didn't seem large at all, but I could feel it—the desperation at having them out of reach, their importance, and my own contradictory will to continue allowing them to lie forgotten.

It was when I felt I could take no more of this situation and started begging God to take me back, when I heard the whisper—as if I myself had thought of the words yet had disconnected them from my will.

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_Who are you?_

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I screamed, for the sudden and agonizing pain in my head was completely unexpected and brought chills across my body. It continued to escalate until I couldn't think straight anymore, see anything, hear anything, and trying to press my hands to my head in the hopes that I could somehow alleviate the pain in some way. But no, it continued until I couldn't tell anymore if I was screaming, sobbing, or yelling for help. Where were my parents? Where was Daniel?

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_What are you doing here?_

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"Stop it… Stop it please…." Why couldn't this suffering just STOP already?! "Please!…" It felt like my whole body was on fire as my mind was trying to catch up with what was happening, all while my brain was splitting in half and sending waves of nausea and dizziness through me. Without realizing it, I was laying down on the rug-covered floor, unfocused eyes facing the ceiling and chandeliers.

I knew I couldn't remain like this for much longer.

Something had to give if I continued in this state. This realization was like a bucket of cold water upon me and made me open my eyes, wincing at the light from the chandeliers overhead.

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Maybe it was the light, maybe it was the symbol it bore, but whilst gazing at the chandeliers with their lighted candles, I felt something faintly fluttering—something akin to hope. I found that seeing any form of light brought great comfort and relief to me. I was surprised to feel that it brought me pride, as if I had gone a long time without light and have overcome whatever it was that was keeping me asleep.

It was the most refreshing thing I had come upon since I had woken up, yet now I was sure I was going crazy.

After a few moments of remaining still and regaining my breath, I was somehow able to capture a few stray wisps of determination, causing me to bring my hands into fists and squeeze my eyes shut in anger and frustration. What was I supposed to do now? I might have been kidnapped, I might have been transported to a different country, oh my god I might have be—

No. Hallucination. Nothing more, nothing less. For the sake of my sanity, this needed to be the only conclusion available to me.

After another moment of stillness, I inhaled as much breath as my lungs could carry and released it all in one burst, hoping dearly that someone would come and help me. I screamed, screamed, for how long I do not know. Time no longer held any meaning to me in this state of shock. I allowed all my bottled-up emotions and pent-up frustrations to wash over me as the shock began to abate, hoping that this would lighten the burden upon my mind.

I kept my eyes closed and squeezed them shut tighter, when I felt arms around me; worried and rushed voices suddenly rang all around me.

"_Oh no, oh no, she must have fallen down the stairs and hit her head…"_

"_What if it's like last time?!"…_

"_There's blood! I'll run and get the bandages!"_

"_Quickly Mark! My Lady, please stay with us! Thomas, fetch a doctor as quickly as you can!"_

"_Yes, Marie! I'll be back soon."_

I didn't recognize any of these foreign voices, but now it was of no matter. Everything felt fuzzy as if I was floating, and it was in this state when an image began to make itself known in my mind as if it were some sort of vision.

I saw a girl who bore a striking resemblance to me; in fact she appeared as if I had walked out of some Victorian Era movie! She had long and straight hair the color of mud, a few freckles on her nose, eyes gray as the rain clouds themselves, lips that were thinner than mine, and wore a dress that made her look like some kind of stoic nobility. It was her gaze that took me aback the most, however. She looked at me with a disappointment which I couldn't understand. What had I done to deserve disappointment? And why did she look like me? Why was I having this dream in the first place?

I met her eyes and tried to speak, but found that my voice would not work above a whisper—a common occurrence in dreams. I met her gaze with my own and tried my best to convey all my emotions through my eyes, all while I felt the pressure continue to build up inside my mind; it nearing a painful degree once more. I was so afraid that I would have another attack like the one when I woke up in the mansion, that I started running towards the girl, hoping that if I got closer to her, maybe she would hear my whispers and help me somehow. It was insane, the hope of a madwoman, I know. But what else could I do but this at the moment? I was no longer acting on logic, but on pure instinct.

I ran and ran, but the girl did not get any closer. I whispered as loud as I could, but she remained too far away to hear me.

Still her disappointed eyes remained fixed on mine. This angered me greatly and a strangely familiar fire filled my chest. Who was I to deserve disappointment in such circumstances and in this suffering?!

"I'm sorry for whatever I've done! Please help me! Do you know what's going on? Who are you?!..." I rambled on and on, repeating the same questions over and over again because I was trying to get some kind of response from the girl that looked so much like me, yet she did nothing but continue gazing at me until I quieted down and felt hopelessness begin to settle in.

It was when I started wishing the horrid dream would end that she began walking towards me, her expression turning sorrowful and her long dress rustling with every step she took. I froze out of fear and a lack of knowledge of what to expect, but held my ground and pressed my lips tightly together to stop the tell-tale trembling that marked the coming of tears. It was when the girl stood a few feet in front of me that she stopped. I held my breath, refusing to look away from her eyes that reminded me so much of rain on a stormy night—like she was mourning without the presence of wearisome tears.

.

.

.

"_What are you doing here?"_

.

.

.

_-ther_

_-sther…_

"ESTHER!"

The sudden shout jolted me awake, all memories of the strange encounter dismissed as a strange dream, and for a moment I was wondering why my mom's shrill voice wasn't the one to wake me up as she usually does. And why my bed was suddenly so plush and big. However, when I opened my eyes and saw what was around me, I released my frustration and resignation in a heavy sigh and laid my head back down on the pillow.

It seemed that my hallucination still had not ceased.

'_What the hell is going on with me…'_

"Oh, my Lady Esther, are you alright? Are you able to see me well? Are you dizzy? Are you in pain?" An older woman that looked to be around sixty clasped my hand and held eye contact with me, and I could see the incredible amount of worry she held for me—no, for Esther. As I held her gaze, I grew unsure as to whether or not I should place my trust in her. In this made-up world, could I trust that some random person would help me even though I wasn't who they thought I was?

"Fredrick, come in here! The Mistress has woken up!" The women shouted before an elderly man quickly opened the door to the large bedroom and entered, many other strangers hurrying inside behind him. I found it very strange that they were all dressed in butler and maid clothes common to the nineteenth century, but who was I to question the strange ways my mind procured hallucinations? As I was deep in thought about my situation, all seven servants of the house gathered around and began asking me questions until I feared that the severe headache would return.

It was from this fear of pain that I suddenly found enough confidence to shout at them all. There was such a clamour of noises that I could do little else.

"Everyone be QUIET!" I shouted, hoping I hadn't just made a horrible mistake and they would all suddenly attack me or something. Since this was a hallucination, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. However, my fears were temporarily laid to rest when everyone closed their mouths and remained silent. Slowly as to not cause my head more pain than it was in, I turned towards the right of my bedside where the older woman sat clasping my hand.

"Can you help me?" I asked. I didn't want anything but information and someone that I could trust to give me the truth. I held the woman's gaze and was caught entirely off guard when she began to shed tears. "I didn't mean—I mean, I'm sorry…" I stuttered. Maybe I did something wrong? What did I do? Would she still help me?

The woman gently smiled and sniffled, rubbing her tear-stained cheeks against a handkerchief she held, before sighing and patting my shoulder. "There's absolutely nothing to apologize for, my Lady. I'm the one that should apologize for shouting, and for the servants distressing you. Are you feeling better? And my Lady… Do you remember anything?" I could tell her words were rushed as if she was afraid that I would fall unconscious again; it was because of this that I decided I could trust her a little. I was extremely confused at the entire situation, but decided to let the hallucination play out. After all, the only thing I could do was hope that it would end as soon as possible.

"I'm sorry, but… I don't know where I am. Or who you are. That's why I asked if you could help me. Can you tell me who you think I am and what is going on? I have no idea and I'm just confused…" Everything that I needed to know was poured out into those questions as I lifted myself up with my back against the head of the bed and pillow. With all these strangers around me and foreign surroundings, I suddenly found myself feeling very small and insignificant. I didn't belong here. I _knew_ I wasn't supposed to be here. Then, what was I doing here in the first place? With all these unspoken questions, I looked to the elderly woman as a moth would to a light. The woman must have caught something from me because suddenly more tears were falling from her eyes, as were from some of the other servants. She released a sigh before beginning to speak with eyes full of pity and motherly concern.

"The doctor predicted this would be the case… I am so sorry my Lady. Each and every one of us deserves heavy punishment for our shortcomings. We are not fit to be your servants after what happened, especially because it is a repeat!"

"What did happen?!" I almost yelled, growing annoyed by their accent and old way of speaking. This was all just like the Victorian Era in England down to a T! I could trace no accent in my voice—when I realized this, I knew why everyone was looking at me as if I had grown two heads.

"My apologies for prolonging the explanation. We all know you were quite rowdy as a toddler and, as is expected of children, were very prone to accidents. One such accident was slipping on the tile floor of the kitchen and hitting your head… " Since Marie felt that Esther had already known this and lived with the condition for many years, she was not as hesitant to reveal her handicaps. "Well, the family doctor wasn't sure what got hit and injured in your head to cause it, but my Lady's sense of taste and smell have gone away since then…"

"…"

Taking my hesitance for acceptance, Marie continued with panic in her voice, "And now you must have slipped and fallen down the stairs, causing trauma to your head in the process once more. You've been asleep for four days, my Lady. The doctor was fetched immediately after Martha discovered you lying at the bottom of the stairs! He reported that the injury would cause you loss of memory. How great the loss would be, he did not know. After aid was given, he was dismissed since there was nothing more he could do. I assume that you do not know who you are, who we are, or where you find yourself?..." She spoke and hesitated at the end, most likely afraid of my answer, but there was nothing I could do except be truthful. My ongoing emotional numbness due to the shock still was not wearing off because I did not feel the expected pang of guilt from making these people worry so much, even causing a woman to cry. Added on to all this, now I was expected to handle the fact that I couldn't taste or smell anything?!

Even though it was all a simple hallucination, I hoped that this wasn't that big of a deal. After all, I had never cared much for food—except sweets, I loved anything sugary—and didn't see how not being able to smell was such a bad thing. I was deeply relieved that Esther hadn't been blind or something.

After rolling these thoughts in my mind for a bit while trying to push the shock away, I noticed the servants' expectant gazes and replied, "That's right. I don't remember anything, so can you please tell me everything?" These people would surely think me insane if I admit to believing this all a hallucination, so I kept that and all questions about my real family to myself in fear of being thrown into an asylum. Everything still appeared very strange to me since the sensation of time standing still had not yet left me. Would the shock later leave severe consequences because of all this? Would I become crazy? Or perhaps, had I actually traveled back in time or in a past life?

"Of course, I will do my best to not leave out anything. Fredrick here—who is the head butler as well as my husband—will correct me if I miss anything of importance. Your full name is Esther Naomi Gravenmoore, and you are fifteen years of age. Your mother… passed away from consumption when you were just a small girl, causing your father to…" Here she shakily inhaled before continuing, "…succumb to heavy alcoholism. I fear the burden of that loss was too much for him to bear. A few months after your mother's death… he passed away also... God rest their souls." The woman paused before I nodded, encouraging her to continue. This news didn't bother me because I knew it didn't pertain to me personally, but I was curious at the faint sorrow I felt deep within me. It didn't feel like it belonged to me. Before I could ponder about it further, the woman's voice brought me away from my thoughts.

"My husband Fredrick and I, Marie Smithson, have been with the Gravenmoore House for four decades. I practically raised you as my own. Businesswise, your parents' untimely passing has given you the responsibility as Baroness and you are to receive the family inheritance upon reaching sixteen years of age. I am not sure if you know this, since no one but yourself is able to tell the extent of the amnesia, but we are a few hours away from London. It is the twenty-fourth of May, eighteen eighty six."

'_Holy shit. What the hell is this…' _"Wait, please stop. I think I need a moment to process everything." I spoke immediately after I sensed panic start to creep in at the sudden influx of so much information and once.

Holy shit. Oh. My. Goodness.

With the release of a heavy sigh, I slumped lower in the bed and raised a hand to rub my forehead—one of my bad habits for when I carried anxiety I was suppressing.

"So I'm in England. In the nineteenth century. And I'm a Baroness named Esther Naomi Gravenmoore." I was pretty sure the deadpan disbelief in my voice could be heard quiet clearly.

Marie nodded and replied with, "That's right, my Lady." The seriousness of her confirmation told me that she hadn't lived for so many years doing nothing. Marie could tell when someone was hiding pain, confusion, loss, and other heavy emotions, especially from someone she considered her adoptive daughter.

"Don't you want to ask why my accent changed and why I'm speaking differently?" Surely they could tell by now that I wasn't the same Esther they had lived with and watched grow up?

Martha, a maid with blonde hair in a tight bun and strict complexion, shook her head. "T'was guessed M'Lady would be different after that blow to M'Lady's head," She replied with a slightly deeper accent compared to Marie's, as her slight nod motioned towards my head.

"…I see. Wow. A-alright. Okay." Wanting some time alone to process all of this and come up with possible solutions to waking up from a hallucination, I turned away from everyone and laid my head back down on the pillow. This motion seemed to awaken a throbbing in my head which didn't go away after a few moments of laying still, so I turned back to Marie, trying to hide the pain in my eyes so everyone wouldn't start causing noise. That would only worsen things.

"Thank you for explaining everything Marie, I understand. Now can everyone please leave me? I would like to leave it up to sleep to heal this headache. I would like for things to go back to normal tomorrow," '_Which would include waking up normally, in my own bed, in 2012!_' I mentally sighed as I looked over all the worried expressions of the servants. The unexpected pang of guilt caused me turn away, bringing the covers higher over my shoulders. I wasn't the one they were worried over. I had to pretend if I didn't want to get thrown in an asylum. And I since I _really _wasn't prepared to handle that stress, I arrived to the conclusion that I would act completely like myself. I would change nothing except for what name I answered to and acting more polite and refined than usual.

"Yes my Lady, we will leave at once. Tomorrow's breakfast will be served in bed since I wish no more stress upon my Lady's body than is needed. We wish you a speedy recovery, both of health, memories, and spirit." After all servants bowed and left, I released the tension in my muscles and sighed.

On one hand, I knew I had to be very thankful for my situation—amnesia was the perfect excuse for anyone who asked why I was acting differently or didn't know them—I suspected that Esther's position was tied to many friends and acquaintances, assuming she was a sociable person. On the other hand, I had to relearn everything Esther knew. Lessons on etiquette, being a proper Baroness, handling the house financially, and who knows what else…

...Is what I would have worried over had I not known this was a hallucination. I smiled, encouraged by the fact that I knew that if I fell asleep, I would surely wake up in my room, away from this place and back to my family. Then again, what had caused me to hallucinate in the first place? Had I been drugged? …Most likely. I sighed, thinking about my strange and mischievous group of friends from school. It was with light-hearted memories that I fell asleep, headache slowly going away.

* * *

"Time to wake up! It is near ten, much later than your normal waking time." Marie's light voice rang in my ears as I opened my eyes, squinting at the sudden disturbance and light flooding the room from the separated crimson curtains.

…Curtains. Marie. _What?_

It seems she didn't notice my shocked expression because she walked to Fredrick as he brought in a tray of food and laid it on my lap. Slowly, I turned to the both of them, Fredrick's explanation of what food was served fading into white noise.

This was all actually real then? It wasn't all a hallucination? …Impossible.

I quickly pinched the back of my hand and winced at the pain. Now that I think about it, the sights, sounds, and feelings were all too real—even for a hallucination. I looked down at the food and pinched off a piece of a brown muffin, taking a bite. At once, I remembered what Marie had said the day before and frowned. So it was true. I could never taste any kind of food, maybe ever again. It felt like food, the texture was the same. But all I tasted was my own saliva—which didn't taste like anything anyways.

Marie and Fredrick shared a concerned look at my hesitance, and I shook my head.

"It's alright. I just… it'll take time." I refused to say anything more. There was just too much to say about all this, so I just left it at that and hoped they got the point.

The elderly woman sighed and nodded her head before her eyes flashed. "Oh, I had almost forgotten! When Martha was out for groceries and supplies this early morning, she met with several of the Moorengrave's acquaintances and your wellbeing was brought up in conversation. The Hillsburghs and Frank Denare give you their wellwishes, while others wish to visit this week. I assume this is alright with my Lady? Martha of course warned that they would not be allowed more than an hour or so, for fear of more headaches and stress on your health."

I looked up from the food and stared absent-mindedly at the wall, deep in thought. Was this alright? Being able to hide behind the excuse of amnesia would make me able to get away with many things, and getting a feel of what the situation was would no doubt prove beneficial, even if I didn't know absolutely anyone.

"…Alright, that's fine. The company would do me good anyways, I think. Who is to come and when?"

Marie and Fredrick seemed to perk up at my agreement, the woman replying with, "Well, today is Monday. My Lady should be expecting Mister Charles Denare—Mister Frank Denare's brother, since the two have been long friends of your father's, at six o'clock tomorrow. Miss Melissa Pennyworth, the young lady you befriended long ago at a family party, will be here Thursday at four. And at six on Friday, Miss Angelina Durless will visit. Your mother befriended her at a party when they both discovered their mutual love for gossip and news. The two used to be inseparable." At the mention of Esther's mother, her voice softened and her expression saddened.

Meanwhile, I was still trying to get past the fact that she said the name 'Angelina Durless'.

No way. No freaking way. No no no. It wasn't the same person. Absolutely wasn't.

The tension made me clutch at the fork I was using to eat with, my gaze never leaving Marie's for fear that she would burst out laughing and say something like "April Fools, retard!" …Who knows. Nothing seemed impossible anymore. And with all these impossible things happening, I was starting to feel as if nothing would be able to hurt me any more than I was already hurt. If I died in this world, who cares? Maybe then I would wake up back home… "Miss Aneglina Durless wouldn't happen to always wear red, would she?..."

"Ah, yes! So there is someone my Lady remembers, right?" Marie smiled in relief, her happiness confirming my terror.

"…I s-see. P-please leave me to my breakfast. I w-wish to be alone now…" I couldn't help the shaking, I was just glad Marie and Fredrick didn't notice before they exited the room. When I was sure they were gone, I set down the fork, picked up the tray, and set it on the nightstand by the bed before burying my face in my pillow. I screamed and screamed, crying, shouting, all while the pillow dutifully muffled all sounds.

Out of this fear and depression, I quickly grew angry. No, furious. Well, if fate wanted to screw me over and give me an early death in a place I felt completely alienated in, I would do my best to screw with it in turn and do the complete opposite—I would survive as damn best I could until I was back home and safe from this nightmare.


End file.
